


just like a distant star

by brighterthanacarnival



Series: enzo's, friday, 7:00 p.m. [3]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Did I mention angst, F/M, Hopper missing Joyce and El, Season 3 Spoilers, some violence, thE AMERICAN - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-20
Updated: 2019-07-20
Packaged: 2020-07-09 01:56:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19879705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brighterthanacarnival/pseuds/brighterthanacarnival
Summary: *season 3 spoilers*-As a captive being held in a Russian prison, Hopper is overseen by Dr. Brenner as he develops psychokinetic abilities.





	just like a distant star

The wind is louder than it has ever been before. He can hear it beating away, trying to tear apart and he wants it to. He imagines seeing the storm rage, the wind whipping at his face. The snow blows through his beard and his baggy, long-sleeved shirt as he breathes in and out. The freezing air is a welcome bliss. He can see the sky above, dark with clouds that shower violent snowflakes.

Hopper coughs several times, causing his chest to hurt. The scene flutters away from his mind and he’s back in the cell.

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t mutter. He thinks, and his thoughts are like a twig in a river, drifting on and on with nothing to stop it even though he wishes there were. He wonders if he was sleeping before, but he can’t remember. What had he been thinking about?

-

Hopper forces himself to sit up. His bed is more like a slab of stone, but he has a filthy pillow and a light on the wall behind him which often flickers. Sometimes he counts how many times it flickers for who-knows-how-long. He used to have some Russian book, but they took that away when he couldn’t complete one of their tests.

He gingerly touches his bandaged arm and flinches. He knows it’s not infected, but it still hurts like hell.

_ “It’s one of the defective ones.” _

_ “Defective?” _

_ “Kill it.” _

_ “How?” _

_ “You should know the answer to that by now.” _

-

He watches it flicker.

One, two...three…

Four…five…

Six…seven, eight, nine…

Ten...eleven.

Eleven.

El.

Where is she?

Is she safe?

Is someone taking care of her?

-

“Are you ready to try again?”

He’s already tried so many times before today. He winces at the pain in his arm, but the guard on his right doesn’t seem to care about the injury because he doesn’t lessen his grip. Hopper clears his throat and licks his dry lips. He avoids Brenner’s gaze.

“Yes.”

It’s the same as usual, so he doesn’t pay attention. They get him ready and he’s pushed into a large room with a two-way mirror on one side which he doesn’t look at. He focuses on the doorway across from him. His heart pounds. Sometimes, he doesn’t know if he prefers this or the solitude of his cell. The speaker above him crackles into life.

“Begin.”

The door opens and a demodog charges in. Hopper focuses on it; tries to accomplish what he’s imagining in his mind. He backs away and the demodog tilts its head as if it’s considering the best way to attack. Hopper doesn’t wait.

He furrows his eyebrows and stares at it until a rush of energy runs from his eyes to his mind to his arms to his fingertips. He throws his hands out and gestures up in a swift motion, causing the demodog to crash into the ceiling and fall to the floor in a crumpled heap. He wipes at his nose.

-

They give him a decent meal after the test: some sort of meat sandwich, a too-ripe apple, steamed broccoli, and a plastic cup of water. He wolfs it down.

-

He’s in some aisle at Melvald’s and Joyce is at the checkout counter. She isn’t paying attention to him even though he wants her to, so he grabs all the magnets on display and walks over. Some of them fall out of his hands onto the floor. He throws the rest onto the counter. She laughs.

“What are all these for?”

He shrugs; feels the hint of a grin tug at his lips.

“I’m buying them for a special someone.”

“Oh, really?” Her eyebrows tilt up in a comic way. “You know, most guys buy flowers.”

He pretends to ponder over her statement before he dives right in.

“Yeah, yeah, that is the more traditional route, but my girlfriend loves magnets. She has an obsession with them.”

“Girlfriend?”

“Yup, a major obsession. I guess you could say we were destined to find each other. I mean, I’m quite the chick magnet, so—”

“Oh my god, Hop.”

She rolls her eyes and throws her head back. He can’t hold back his smile.

“You like that one, huh?”

“No! Now, go put these back!”

Her grin betrays her.

“No, no, no. See, I’m buying these. I’m the customer. You’re the cashier. You have to ring me up.”

She shakes her head and comes around the counter. She passes him—her arm brushing against his back—to pick up the dropped magnets. He leans down to help her.

“I’ll take these ones, too. Just put them with the rest.”

“Hop!”

He holds one of the magnets up. It’s a goldfish with googly eyes.

“Look at this one! You like fish, don’t you?”

“When have I ever said I like fish?”

“It kind of looks like Murray, don’t you think?”

Joyce considers the magnet and laughs.

“It kind of does, especially with those glasses.”

“Alright, so this one is named Murray. Do you want to name the others now, or should we wait until I give them to you tonight when I pick you up?”

“Pick me up?”

“Enzo’s, seven o'clock. I’m picking you up.”

Her smile dims. She stands up and he does too. She offers him her magnets and as he accepts them, his fingers linger, eager for her touch. He leans slightly toward her, but the sorrow in her voice stops him.

“Sure you are, Hop.”

He wakes to the sounds of clanging and muffled voices speaking in Russian. Hopper’s heart jolts when he thinks he hears someone pause in front of his cell. More speaking; footsteps walk away. He lets out a sigh of relief before he hears a door open nearby. There's shouting and the sounds of a struggle. A desperate prisoner begs but his voice becomes fainter with every passing second.

Nobody comes back.

-

“Use this picture to find this man.”

It’s a black and white photograph of a person Hopper has never seen before. He peers into Dr. Brenner’s eyes, thinking about El. His daughter was once a prisoner too, forced to do similar things. She called this monster ‘Papa’.

The desire to kill Brenner floods his mind—not for the first time—and he imagines using his new powers to murder the son of a bitch.

“Did you hear me?”

But Hopper isn’t ready to do that yet. If he takes down Brenner, he has to take down everyone else. His powers aren’t developed enough.

Brenner slaps him and his cheek burns. Hopper draws in a sharp breath.

“Are you listening, now?”

Hopper shows him a venomous grin and spits in his face.

-

They open his cell and throw him in like he’s nothing but a ragdoll. Hopper groans, unable to move. He hurts all over.

-

_ “Why am I here?” _

_ “Because you could become one of our best.” _

_ “Your best what?” _

_ “You know what that world is like.” _

_ “And why are you here? I thought you were dead!" _

_ "I know how you feel, Jim. I was once a prisoner here as well, but they wanted me to work for them. So, I cooperated. Look how they have rewarded me. I could do the same for you." _

_ "Go to hell." _

-

Fifteen, sixteen, seventeen...eighteen.

It doesn’t come back to life. It must have burned out. He sits in the dark.

-

"Let's try this again, shall we?" Brenner asks.

Hopper shifts, annoyed by the wires they've connected to his head. The more often he doesn't piss them off, the more likely he isn't beaten or starved.

He stares at the picture of the man and closes his eyes. He's not entirely sure how to do this, but he's seen El do it before, hasn't he? Of course, they don't know that.

And they don't know that as soon as he's able, he's going to tear down this prison and go back to his kid.

“Focus.”

He does. He thinks of the man. He opens his eyes, expecting to see Brenner’s face again, but instead, he sees darkness. His feet and ankles are wet. He proceeds forward, unsettled by the eerie splashes that disturb the silence. He sees a lump lying on the floor ahead of him.

“Do you see him?”

He approaches, his nose wrinkling at the smell.

“Yes.”

“Where is he?”

Hopper bends down, recognizing the man from the picture even though he’s swollen. He rests two fingers against the man’s neck.

“He’s dead. I think...I think he’s drowned.”

-

He’s taken to his cell, dragged like he’s nothing but a sack of potatoes. He yells as they close the door.

“Could you at least fix the damned light in here?”

-

“Oh.”

He sits up and leans against the wall.

“Oh, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.”

He closes his eyes, no longer annoyed about the absence of light. Why hadn’t he thought of it before?

-

He walks through the dark setting, water sloshing around his ankles. He sees a far off scene and approaches, his breath catching in his throat. El is wiping a kitchen table. She’s taller, her hair is longer, and she’s wearing a green shirt. He stops in front of her, unable to speak, and watches her set the dish towel down carefully before she turns around. She speaks and he’s so caught up in the sound of her voice that he barely catches what she says.

“Are we going back to Hawkins for Thanksgiving?”

He turns his attention to the point she’s gazing at.

Joyce. Joyce is standing at a kitchen sink wiping a pot with a wet rag as the faucet runs. He takes a few steps forward, his breathing uneven. She turns the water off and looks back.

“We’ll see. Jonathan said he might go for a quick visit next weekend. Maybe you and Will can go with him,” she responds. She’s tense. Her eyes shift away to a point over Hopper’s shoulder. He lets out a shaky breath, realizing that the answer to his questions is right before his eyes.

“Will you come, too?”

Joyce hesitates and shakes her head.

“Not this time, honey. I have to work.” She pauses; puts on a reassuring smile. “Will you put that dish towel in the hamper?”

He focuses on El who nods and he reaches out for her. He can feel tears coming to his eyes.

“El?” he croaks out.

She passes him and fades into smoke. He hurries to the spot where she disappeared, wanting her to come back. She looked so beautiful; so much older. He yells out and kicks at the water.

“El!” he shouts.

She doesn’t come back. He hears sniffing and turns around. The kitchen table is gone. Joyce is leaning against the sink, her arms spread out, and her fingers grip the edge of the counter, drops of water dripping from her white knuckles. He approaches, startled to see that she’s crying. The pot she was scrubbing before has a few pieces of macaroni still clinging to the sides. Two tears trail down her cheeks and she wipes them away.

“Joyce?” he whispers. God, he needs her to hear him. “Joyce? I’m here.”

She straightens and covers her face with her hands. He takes a step away, afraid that she'll disappear if he touches her.

“Come on!” He rubs his hand over his forehead; he can't just watch her like this. He reaches out to touch her shoulder. His hand passes through like she’s not really there.

He realizes she’s wearing one of his shirts.

She stiffens and turns around, her eyes wide.

“Joyce? Can you hear me?” he asks, searching for any sign of recognition. “Joyce?”

He thinks she's about to speak to him. She scans the area, her posture stiff and her expression alert. He reaches for her hand and she fades into smoke.

“No!”

Hopper opens his eyes to see nothing but darkness all around him. He wipes at the blood trailing from his nose as his head pounds. He lies down, sobbing.

**Author's Note:**

> This was so fun and easy to write. The title and story are inspired by the lyrics of "Winter Song" performed by Ingrid Michaelson and Sara Bareilles. Let me know what you thought about this chapter. Kudos/comments are much appreciated!


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